It must be well past midnight. My body aches from the unnatural position I’ve forced myself into, trying to hide beneath a black fire extinguisher in a pitch dark corridor. The school should be deserted, but… it isn’t. There it is again—a soft dragging sound just around the corner. Damn, this is not good. Not good at all.
Gnat's plan to mislead the watchdogs had been as gross as it was effective. He figured there was only one place they wouldn’t detect an intruder: inside the gigantic garbage container that’s rolled into the school every night before it’s being hermetically sealed. To be fair, he was right. The stench of rotting food and sour milk had overpowered all other scents, including mine. Even now—hiding under the fire extinguisher—I’m struggling not to throw up. I smell disgusting.
There… there it is again—that sound. Not closer, not louder, but well… very ‘there’. And even though it terrifies the hell out of me, I realize that I can't just stay here, trapped like a frightened little girl under a damn fire extinguisher.
I muster all my courage and slowly crawl toward the corner of the corridor. I peek around it and see... nothing. How? I was sure that— I strain my ears. There it is again, but now coming from around the next corner. I tiptoe towards it, look around... nothing. Now the sound is coming from yet another corner. I move faster, glance around... nothing. Another corner... nothing. The dragging sound keeps eluding me, as if someone is toying with me.
My initial fear and caution quickly evaporate, replaced by frustration and anger. Another corner... nothing. I start running, but no matter how fast I go, the sound is always just one corner ahead. At full speed, I turn the next corner, and then... nothing. Not "nothing" as in an “empty”, but actually nothing. After a few meters, the corridor itself has completely disappeared—walls, ceiling, lamps, and floor, all gone. I slam on the brakes, trying to stop before the point where the corridor seems to have been sliced away, as if by a knife, giving way to an infinite black void. For a moment, I struggle to keep my balance at the razor-sharp edge, but then my left foot slips, and I tumble forward. Slowly, the corridor fades from sight, leaving me surrounded by nothing but darkness.
For a brief moment, there’s only silence. Then, I hear a voice, high pitched and merry.
“Still rash? Still reckless, Alice?”
Alice? Who’s Alice? I think, confused.
“Hi hi hi, fastest cometh lastest.”
I still don’t see anyone. What is this? Who is this?
“What’s this? No wham? No bam? No thank you, ma’am? No fire? No boom?”
Although I understand that losing control while dangling over a black abyss of indefinite depth is not a great idea, I can’t help myself. “You can do your own exploding, thank you! Show yourself and I’ll teach you a lesson!”
“Yes, there you are,” the voice rejoices. “I knew it was you! Hi hi hi. Yes, yes, many lessons to be learned.”
“Stop babbling. Show yourself!”
For a moment, I think the voice is gone, leaving me floating in the dark. But then, triumphantly, as if completing a complex circus act: “Tadaaaaa!”
Out of thin air, a short, round figure materializes. He’s very uhm… white in a smudgy way and hairy. His long white hair is tied into a ponytail, his equally white beard reaches till halfway his belly and even from his ear tufts of white hair sprout. He’s wearing a double-breasted, repeatedly mended tartan suit, stretched uncomfortably tight around his belly. A battered top hat balances on his head, and on his feet he wears worn-down leather shoes from which the laces are missing and dirty gaiters. He’s a cross between Father Christmas and a tramp, between a fallen nobleman and an albino rabbit. I can’t decide whether to laugh or curse.
“Give me a break,” I exclaim. “You’re not the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, are you?”
“Hi hi hi, of course not! Alice, that’s just a story. You know that. This is for real.”
“Then why do you keep calling me Alice?”
“Because that’s your name, silly. Alice, Alice—always Alice.”
I’m not even sure how to react to something like this.
“And... why, uh... do you look like this?” His smile only grows wider.
“Because you need me to, Alice. To trick you. We learned long ago that this is the best version of me to teach you. The less seriously you take me, the easier you learn. That’s the trick, trick, tricky-de-trick.” He’s almost singing now, which only infuriates me more.
“I’m not going to learn anything from you.”
“I know, I know, so many times, so young, so..." His voice falters, as if his mind drifts away, but then, with a jolt, he regains his earlier enthusiasm.
“But look at you now. Sixteen! Such a long time ago that you made it to sixteen.” He looks as if it’s his personal achievement that I’ve reached my sixteenth birthday alive. It’s just too much to process. My head starts to ache.
“But, who are you?”
“Ah yes. All forgotten. That’s how it goes.” He’s still smiling, but now I notice something different in his eyes. Wistfulness? Sadness? Grief? I shake my head violently. No time for dwarf psychology. My patience is gone.
“I DONT KNOW YOU! WHAT ARE YOU?’
“I’m the key keeper of course.”
“Key keeper? Of what?”
“Of you Alice. Always of you.”
“I’m not a key.’
“Of course you’re not a key, you are the lock.”
“What the fuck...?”
This is too much madness to deal with. Finally, I start to wrestle against the blackness that’s holding me.
"Let me go, you garden gnome. Let me..." He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything. He only lifts his index finger, and I fall silent. Not a single sound escapes my lips anymore. When he also raises his pinky, my body stops moving entirely. My eyelids still blink, my lungs still breathe, but that’s about it.
"It’s time, Alice. Hee hee hee. One more time, this life we’ll get it right." He stretches out his left hand, and presses his thumb between my eyebrows.
"Bye-bye, fly, fly." And poof, he’s gone.
I want to scream, but no sound leaves my lips. I want to move, but I'm paralyzed. I want to see, but my eyes roll back in their sockets. I want to stay conscious, but the darkness engulfs me, slowly filling me up. I fight it. I want answers. I need answers. But I don't stand a chance. Slowly, I drift away on an infinite ocean of oblivion to an unknown destination.
Before I lose consciousness, images appear in my mind, razor-sharp and in vivid color. Scenes with myself in them, although I don't look like myself at all: A little blonde girl crying on a cold tile floor. An old grey woman spinning a wheel in a rickety shack, hidden deep in the woods. A tall woman wearing body armor and a crown, proudly raising a blood-drenched sword in triumph, facing a cheering army on the battlefield. Crying at a grave. Lying in bed, in the arms of a man I don't recognize, my head resting on his chest. I gaze in astonishment at the intensely happy, sweaty face that I know must be mine. Somewhere far away, a baby is crying in its mother's arms, and I realize I don't even know if I'm the mother or the baby—and then... nothing."